


My father, Wesker

by Nohvarrs



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil (Movieverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alber Wesker being a dad, Albert Wesker - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chris Redfield - Freeform, Claire Redfield - Freeform, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, Jake Muller - Freeform, Jake Muller's mom, Kid Jake Muller, Modern AU, More tags will be added further on, Piers Nivans - Freeform, alternative universe, he tries, help him, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 14:11:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17582402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nohvarrs/pseuds/Nohvarrs
Summary: The summer of 2004 brought many strange occurrences, perhaps the oddest being the sudden appearance of his father. Well........his mom always did say he was a bit of an 'eccentric' man.





	My father, Wesker

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me where this idea came from. I love Albert Wesker and Jake Muller, and I love dumb AU's so please enjoy whatever the hell this is.  
> In this alternative universe none of the canon story for the Resident Evil franchise will occur. That means everyone is a normal, boring human.

Jake

His mother’s death came as a shock to the entire family. She had been in her study when she passed away, writing the last sentence for the final chapter of her latest and soon-to-be-published book. She was found by her sister, Cheryl Muller, and the funeral was held two days later, when the autopsy revealed her cause of death to be a heart attack. Family and acquaintances attended her funeral however not many friends…. Eliza Muller had not been a well-liked person in the publishing world, for although the books she wrote - stories about horror and magic – regularly claimed the top of the best sellers list, she had the disquieting habit of insulting the people around her without knowing it. It was at his mother’s funeral, however, that Jake Muller first caught sight of the gentleman in the long, black coat. 

He was standing under the shade of a large tree, away from the crowd, with both hands crossed firmly across his chest. His mouth was set into a deep frown and his eyes were concealed by a pair of sunglass. His blond hair was pushed back out of his face. Jake watched him with curiosity that only a child could possess. Without warning, and like he knew he was being observed, the mysterious man turned and walked back through the rows of headstones and disappeared from sight.

 

After the service Jake and his aunt travelled back to his dead mother’s house, over a humpback bridge and along a narrow road that carved its way through the thick woodland. The gates to the estate were heavy and grand and stood open, welcoming them into the grounds. The land around the old house was vast and the house itself was enormous.  
There was an extra door in the living room, a door disguised as a bookcase, and when he was younger Jake liked to think that no one else knew about this door, not even Eliza herself. It was a secret passageway like the ones in books he’d read, and when he was younger he would make up adventures about haunted houses and smuggled treasure. This secret passageway would always be his escape route, and the imaginary villains in his adventures would be dumbfounded by his sudden and mysterious disappearance. But now this door stood open and there was a steady stream of people coming in and out of it, and he was saddened that this little piece of magic had been taken from him. 

 

Tea was served, and drinks were poured, and little sandwiches were passed around on silver trays, and Jake watched as the mourners appraised their surroundings. The major topic of hushed conversation was the will. Eliza was not a woman who inspired or even demonstrated any great affection, so no one could predict who would inherit her substantial fortune. Jake could see the greed seep into the watery eyes of his mother’s brother, a horrible little man called Warren, as he nodded sadly and spoke sombrely as he pocketed the silverware when he thought nobody was looking.  
Warren’s wife was a thoroughly dislikeable, sharp-featured woman named Sarah. She drifted through the crowd, deep in unconvincing grief, prying for gossip and digging for scandal. Her daughters did their best to ignore Jake. Emily and Jane were twins, fifteen years old, and as sour and vindictive as their parents. Whereas Jake was red haired, tall and lean and somewhat strong, they were bottle-blonde, stumpy and dressed in clothes that definitely should not have squeezed them in the places they did. Apart from their blue eyes, nobody would have guessed the twins were related to him. He liked that. It was the only thing about them he liked. He left them to their petty glares and snide whispers and went for a walk. 

 

The corridors of his mother’s house were long and lined with paintings. The floor beneath Jake’s feet was wooden, polished to a gleam, and the house smelled of age. Not musty exactly but…. experienced. These walls and these floors had seen a lot in their time, and Jake was nothing but a faint whisper to them, fond memories of his happy life with his mother now part of its history.  
Eliza had been a good mother. Arrogant and irresponsible, yes, but also childish and enormous fun, with a light in her eyes, a glint of mischief. When everyone else was taking her seriously, Jake was privy to the winks and the nods and the half-smiles that she would shoot his way when they weren’t looking. Even as a child he felt he understood his mother better than most. He liked her intelligence and her wit, and the way she didn’t care what people thought of her. She’d been a good mother to have. She’d taught him a lot.

 

He knew that his mother and uncle Edward had briefly dated, but when Eliza had introduced her younger sister, it was love at first sight. Eliza liked to grumble that she had never got more than a peck on the cheek, but she had stepped aside graciously, and had quite happily gone on to have numerous affairs with many handsome men. Jake knew from an early age that he’d come from one of her affairs.  
The boy climbed the staircase, pushed open the door to his mother’s study and stepped inside. The walls were filled with the framed covers from her bestsellers and shared space with all manner of awards. One entire wall was made up of shelves, jammed with books. There was biographies and historical novels and science tests and psychology tomes, and there were battered little paperbacks stuck in between. A lower shelf had magazines, literary reviews and quarterlies.  
Jake passed the shelves which housed the first editions of Eliza’s novels and approached the desk. He looked at the chair where she’d died, trying to imagine her there…..how she must have slumped. He was pulled out of his thoughts by a voice (the accent was American, he briefly realised) so smooth it could have been made of velvet.

“At least she died doing what she loved.”  
He turned, surprised, to see the man from the funeral in the long black coat standing in the doorway.  
“Yes,” Jake said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. “At least there’s that.”  
“You’re Jake.” The man said, prompting Jake to nod as he took the opportunity to look at him more closely. He couldn’t even see a hint of his eye colour beneath those sunglasses.  
“Were you a friend of hers?” He asked. He was tall, this man, tall and fairly muscular, though his coat made it difficult to judge. “I was,” he answered with a move of his head. This slight movement made the boy realise the rest of the man’s body was unnaturally still. “I’d known her for years…. met her outside a bar in New York when she was over there, back when she had just published her first novel.” 

Jake began to grow a little annoyed that he could not see anything behind the sunglasses – they were pitch black. “Are you a writer too?”  
“Me? No, I wouldn’t know where to start. But I got to live out my writer fantasies through Eliza.” Jake gave him a blank look. That was an….. odd thing to say. He quirked an eyebrow at him. “You had writer fantasies?” He asked slowly, so he wouldn’t accidentally offend the other. “Doesn’t everyone?” 

Jake starred at the man, again, and shook his head this time. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” The blond man’s lips tugged downwards into a frown at hi response. Clearly, he hadn’t expected him to respond like that. “….Mhm….. Then that would make me seem somewhat odd, wouldn’t it?” Jake wanted to snort but he refrained from doing so. He thought that made him odd? That was barely the tip of the iceberg, in the boy’s mind, and he didn’t even know the man. “Well,” Jake answered. “It would help. “The blond stranger was silent for a few moments and the child found himself wishing to god he could see behind those damn sunglasses. At least that way Jake would have been able to hazard a guess about what he was thinking. “…Eliza used to talk about you all the time, boast about her son. She was an individual of character, your mother, it seems you are too.” 

“You say that like you know me.”  
“Strong-willed, sharp-tongued, intelligent, doesn’t suffer fools gladly…… remind you of anyone?” Jake could see an eyebrow cocked upwards just above the frame of the sunglasses. “Yes, my mother, Eliza.” The frown that had been present moments ago was replaced by a smirk. An awfully smug one that had the child narrowing his eyes in sight annoyance. The man’s behaviour was starting to grind on his nerves, however he wasn’t going to admit it. “Very interesting,” said the man. “Because those are the exact words she used to describe you.” His gloved fingers dipped into the pocket of his coat and brought out a silver Motorola Razr, checking the time displayed on the front of the phone. He hesitated for a moment before returning the phone to his pocket and fixing Jake with a firm look. At least he thought it was a firm look. Damn sunglasses. 

“I have things I need to sort out at the moment however I have a very strong feeling we will meet again. Till then, good bye.” Jake tilted his head to the side curiously, pondering the strangers words for a second before shrugging his shoulders. “See you later, then.” Jake said, a little dumbly. The man shot him a smile as he turned around and disappeared back through the doorway, leaving the child alone in the study. Jake found he couldn’t take his eyes off the spot where he had been. Who was he? He hadn’t even gotten his name. He crossed over to the door and stepped out, wondering how he had vanished from sight so quickly. He hurried down the stairs and reached the large hall without seeing him. Jake opened the front door just as a big black car turned out on to the road and he watched him drive away, stayed there for a few moments before reluctantly re-joined his extended family in the living room. Just in time to see Warren slip a silver ashtray into his breast pocket.


End file.
